The crime scene was horrific -- 24 dead -- and the sheriff's commander called out last Saturday to lead the investigation said that during his 18 years in the business he's never seen such carnage.

Now city folks -- people who like their beef neatly wrapped and packaged or served on a sizzling plate at an upscale restaurant -- may consider the victims to be "just cows."

But that's like coming upon a crash and calling a Ferrari "just a car."

What happened in an isolated area about 24 miles north of Klamath Falls last weekend offers a glimpse into the obscure world of high-end cattle ranching involving a special breed of cow called Salers, considered nature's first wild cow. Images of Salers have been discovered painted on cave walls dating back more than 7,000 years in France.

It's also the first round in what will be a battle between a stubborn, old-time cattle rancher who uses a battered hat to fight sunburn and the suit-and-tie crowd working in air-conditioned offices at Amtrak and the mighty Union Pacific Railroad.

View full sizeSusan TophamAn investigation into how the cattle got onto the track is underway. Rancher Bruce Topham believes the cows left their grazing area through a fence that fell over.

Just after noon Saturday Amtrak's northbound Coast Starlight plowed into 24 of Topham's cattle that had escaped from a field and then climbed onto an elevated portion of the track. There were no injuries onboard the train, and after a 25-minute delay the train rolled onward.

Union Pacific, which owns the track and leases running rights to Amtrak, notified the Klamath County Sheriff's Office as required by law. Topham owns Flying T Salers -- one of the nation's largest breeders of Salers -- and was at home when he got the call. The only employees are himself, his wife and their three kids.

"It took us 90 minutes to get there," he said. "I lease space for these cattle and live about 45 miles away. No one was around by the time we arrived with a trailer to bring the cattle home. We saw some of the bodies and then started scouring the brush to look for survivors.

"We ended up finding 24 dead cattle," he said. "We studied cattle tracks and it looks like they were walking between the rails on this portion of the track that is about 30 feet in the air with gravel on both sides. Their backs were to the train. They never saw it coming."

What Topham wants to know is who is going to pay for his cattle? On Wednesday he spent more than an hour on the telephone with a lawyer, who is preparing to make claims against both railroad companies.

The way Topham understands the law, the railroads are responsible for maintaining fences along the right-of-way. He said it appears that an old portion of the fence toppled over and the cattle made their break for freedom, which turned out to be short-lived.

"I checked with the county clerk and this entire area is considered open range," he said. "That means if you don't want livestock on your property, you have to fence it in."

Topham said he called Amtrak and was told it was Union Pacific's problem, because the railroad owns the rails and leases them to Amtrak. Vernae Graham, an Amtrak spokeswoman based in Oakland, said all questions about liability should be directed to Union Pacific. Tom Lange, a Union Pacific spokesman, said the company is investigating the incident.

"It's going to be a can of worms," Topham said. "But we're on the right side of the argument."

Topham, who has 12 grazing sites scattered throughout Klamath County, specializes in Salers, a rare and expensive animal that is almost irreplaceable.

"I've been talking with my attorney and we're trying to put a value on the cattle," he said. "Not just the immediate loss, but long term. We're talking more than several hundred thousand dollars."

The dead cattle were part of a "closed herd" made up of genetically pure Salers. The 23 cows and one bull that died were more than half a herd of what Topham called his Salers All-Stars -- the best of the best. And for a man that has 1,200 head of cattle, that's quite an honor. The all-star herd was first formed in 1981 when he implanted embryos in cows.

"Think of this as factory and product," he said. "That train killed the factory."

Topham sells some of calves for breeding and others end up as steaks.

It's impossible, he said, to go onto the open market and replace the 24 cattle. "It's like my brother was killed and I want another brother," he said. "I have to go talk to my folks about creating another one."

Dean Pike, director of field services at the American Salers Association in Colorado, said Salers are known for having almost no trouble giving birth.

"If you don't get a live calf, you have nothing," he said. "They don't need human assistance when they give birth. And if you go to a high-end restaurant in France they serve Saler beef. This man's loss would be huge."

Using existing stock, Topham said it could take as long as 10 years to rebuild the genetically pure herd.